


all's well that ends well (to end up with you)

by notalone91



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Declarations Of Love, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, brief suicide mention, but i still want to throw it out there, if you got through the bathtub scene you're most likely going to be fine, seriously it's only like a line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 00:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20612219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalone91/pseuds/notalone91
Summary: Richie and Eddie face their fears and, this time, for a moment, Pennywise really doesn’t have anything to do with it.





	all's well that ends well (to end up with you)

“Next time, we pick regular scary,” Richie yelled as they ran down the tunnels toward the cavernous space where the rest of the Losers were still- _hopefully_\- fighting Pennywise.

Eddie gasped for breath, wishing for a moment that he _hadn’t_ just set his inhaler on fire. “Next time?!” he squawked, shoving him lightly, not wanting to even entertain the thought of having to do this again. In his mind, maybe, in twenty-seven more years, he’d be able to shake off the guilt of what had just happened upstairs. Sure, he was afraid. That’s all well and good. Most of the time, fear keeps you on your toes. Fear gets moles checked. Fear’s tire pressure is checked regularly and the spare is in perfect condition. Fear turns the NFC setting off before walking away from the register. Fear becomes a risk analyst because what else does it do. Fear is safe and ready and aware. Until you’re battling a monster for whom fear is a teenage boy in a microwave snack commercial. Then, fear is a liability. It’s a weapon you’ve forged but never get to wield. Fear is what gets you killed. “There had better not be a fucking next time. If there’s a next time, we’re all dead.”

“Stop saying that, man,” Richie said, tugging his still skittish friend into a small branch-off from their path. He struggled to pull his arm away and get back to the rest of their group but was fairly easily restrained. If there was one thing that his newfound memories had instilled in Richie, it was that their best shot at this shithead was together. “You weren’t-”

“I was! I was going to let you die!” As he said them, the impact of his words hit Eddie like a ton of bricks. The shock and hurt on Richie’s face was payment in kind. He folded his arms and took a step back, looking at the ground. “I froze. It had you and I couldn’t…” He trailed off. His memory hadn’t come back as clearly as the others yet. He wasn’t sure what a lot of what was coming back to him meant. Soft touches, shared glances, hushed whispers mixed with the normal smacks and eye rolls and jokes about his mother. The only thing that was clear about it was the knot that developed in his stomach whenever he looked at Richie. There was _something_ there. And not the bonds of escaping death. He certainly didn’t get this feeling when he looked at Bill or Bev. This was _different_. Watching it set its sights on Richie, he felt himself completely detach from reality. “I couldn’t…”

Richie absentmindedly dug his fingers into his elbow. “What, Eds? You were scared! This whole thing is nuts!” He turned and started to pace, adjusting his glasses every time they began to slip. “I am pretty sure if we hadn’t all done this before, we’d have shit our pants and got the fuck out of dodge. You were stabbed in the face, for fuck’s sake.” His movements began to calm and he stared at him, gauze covering the too-fresh wound on his cheek.

“Yeah. And then what?” Eddie spat, staring at his feet and cradling himself tighter. “I’d be the guy who watched the only person he’s ever loved get torn apart by some fucking spider version of…” Just like in the movies, he could almost hear the record scratch to a stop and the glass shatter. He had not meant to say that. He was married. His life was in New York and Richie’s was in L.A. and what difference did it make if he’d loved him when he was twelve? His heart raced, betraying his panic, but all he could manage was a whispered “Fuck.”

The tunnel grew eerily silent. The two men stared at each other, willing the other to speak. Richie couldn’t believe it. 

Over the years, he’d grown used to being alone. Sometime since returning to Derry, he’d realized he’d been leaving room for Eddie to come back into his life. He’d always look for someone’s reaction to his jokes, even alone. Part of why he never wrote his own material was because no one on his team got them. His assistants tried. They really tried. Time, now, made it all so clear. He’d spent the last twenty-seven years trying to replace him. Even moments before, his fears had manifested themselves as a closet. How typical. An aging queer literally terrified of a fucking closet. Nothing had changed. He’d let himself repress that whole aspect of himself because what difference did it make, truly, if Eddie wasn’t by his side?

He blinked back a few tears, finally finding his voice, breathless though it may have been. “You loved me?” 

Eddie spluttered a few times but he couldn’t make himself clarify what he’d said. Truthfully, it hadn’t required any clarification. It was out there in the open and he’d said it and, terrified though he was he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. If only it hadn’t been while standing ankle-deep in grey water and feet away from a physical manifestation of their deepest, darkest fears. He simply snapped his mouth shut and silently pleaded for him to drop it.

“Eds?” Richie asked again, taking a step closer to him. He reached his hand out and rested it gently on Eddie’s arm. 

As though scalded, he retracted his arm and turned away, shouting, “We don’t have time for this!” He could feel the flush of his cheeks and praised whatever God was looking over this godless place for the light not quite reaching them.

Having exactly none of his aversions this time, Richie chased after him. “God damn it, Eddie! We could both die down here and if it’s my last chance to hear you say it, I want to hear it!” He clasped his hands around Eddie’s arms and shook him lightly. “Just fucking say it!” Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, beginning to fall freely. “I need to hear you say it!” he begged.

Eddie shrugged him off and backed away, the familiar fear rising up in his throat. “Hear what? 36 hours ago, neither of us remembered who the other was!”

“Fuck! Do I have to say it first?” Richie conceded, backing himself against the wall for support. “I love you.” His words were more of a shout than he’d have liked. They echoed around the cave, trying to make up for lost time. The power of his voice shocked them both a little. Richie wrapped his arms around his middle and stared at his feet, unable to look him in the eye. “I’ve loved you since we were kids. I’ve loved you since before I was old enough to actually know what that meant. Jesus,” he sighed, resting his head against the wall, “for the past 27 years, there’s been this stupid void that I could never fill.” He finally managed to bring his eyes to Eddie. He took a step toward him and reached out to swat his arm. “It was you, fucker.” He gave a bittersweet smile and shook his head, almost unable to believe how long it had taken him. “You and your stupid hypochondria and your answers for everything and your neverending…” When his eyes met Eddie’s, he startled himself. Eddie’s expression didn’t come across as pleased or anything even remotely positive. All Richie could see was fear and immediately, he began berating himself for even mentioning it. He sucked in his lips and threw his hands up in defeat. “You know what? Forget it. We all will soon enough anyway.”

A pressure built in his chest as he watched the moment begin to slip away, and this time, it wasn’t an asthma attack. “No!” Eddie whimpered, moving toward him and catching his hands, pulling him in closer. “I won’t forget.” He brought the taller man’s hands to rest around his neck and cupped his jaw, realizing for the first time how much lighter his eyes had gotten over the years. “Not this time,” he assured, leaning up to bridge the gap between them with a deep kiss that should have happened years earlier. 

Richie nearly fell backward at the sudden force. He let his hands weave into his neatly coiffed hair and disheveled it in a way he’d wanted to for ages. He’d forgotten so much but now… Now, he was sure he’d remember this forever, not that he planned on having to. There’d be time. So much time. But for the time being, this would have to wait. When he reopened his eyes and took him in, he realized something off. “Were you on your tippy-toes, Eds?” he asked, laughing gently.

With an abrupt sigh, Eddie rolled his eyes and gave him a light shove. “Oh, shut up,” he laughed, pulling him in again by the edges of his shirt and kissed him once more. He smiled against his lips, despite himself, and muttered “Asshole.”

“I mean, it’s cute,” Richie said, straightening up and letting his hands fall to the small of his back, “you have to reach for your prize.” He puffed out his shoulders dramatically like he was some sort of amalgamation of Prince Charming and Superman all wrapped into one.

“Fuck you,” he said, pushing off of him and starting to, with newfound confidence, walk back to where the rest of the Losers were fighting a much more tactile set of fears. “And don’t call me ‘Eds,’“ he called over his shoulder.

Richie let his gaze linger on Eddie a little longer than he’d ever done so intentionally, willing his memory to cling to every last inch of him. Then, he started walking slowly behind him. His stomach formed a tight knot as his mind settled on what they were about to do.

Before they reached the mouth of the tunnel, Eddie paused for a moment, letting Richie pass him. “Hey, wait,” he called. Despite the chill coursing over him, he realized there was something he hadn’t really said.

“What?” Richie asked, turning back to face him.

Eddie reached his hand for him and laced their fingers together, marveling at how right it felt. “I love you, too.” He smiled up at Richie and wrapped his free arm up around his neck, breathing him in. Richie pressed his cheek against the top of his head. Neither wanted to admit the overwhelming dread they were holding in. At least dread wasn’t fear.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Richie heard a voice in the back of his mind. It was Eddie, when they were young. They were standing in the middle of the road in front of the house at 29 Neibolt Street two weeks before Georgie disappeared. Bill had insisted on a hybrid game of Truth or Dare and Ding Dong Ditch, bored of their normal antics. Stanley had already had his turn, having to ditch from the charred house on Harris Avenue. He sat leaning against the handlebars of his bike and watched smugly as Eddie made his way up the path. He got about halfway to the door and froze, staring at an upstairs window. “This is fucking insane! I’m not staying here another minute.” He turned around and hopped back on his bike, sending a booming “Fuck you guys!” over his shoulder.

“Hey, Eddie, wait up!” Richie called to him and sped off in pursuit, laughing a little at his friend. After all, it was just a house. 

It was just a house.

It was just a house that led to the center of Derry’s sewer system. It was just a house that was possessed by an evil shape-shifting clown. It was just a house where they kept having ridiculous near-death experiences. It was just a house where Pennywise had nearly taken Richie with the deadlights just moments prior. It was just a house where Eddie had mustered up his courage and freed him from the grasp of it. It was just a house where the fucking clown had impaled Eddie, spraying his blood all over Richie.

“Richie,” Eddie groaned, falling onto his side with a thud.

Clamoring to be next to him, not even noticing the amount of blood that had been spilled onto him, he started trying to put pressure on the gaping wound in the center of his chest. “Ed!” He scooted closer, taking the man in his arms, shaking, trying desperately not to make things worse.

A shaky breath carried out his name. “Richie…” His hands searched to grasp onto his shirt. He clung to Richie, as though it would keep him. 

Tears fell quickly from Richie’s stunned eyes. “Eds, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you,” he said. He appraised the wound for a moment and looked up at his friends for a moment, pleading for one of them to say it wasn’t that bad; that everything would be fine. “You’re alright. We’re gonna get you out of here.” He stared at the pooling blood under his hands and ignored it.

That was the key, wasn’t it? If he believed that Eddie would be okay, he would be. If he ignored it, it was simply a trick. It was one of Pennywise’s mind games. It was nothing. They’d get him out of here. They had to.

“I got him, Richie. I- I got him,” he stammered, as a drop of blood began to form at the corner of his mouth. 

Richie smiled, trying his best not to let his expression show even a trace of the panic that was building in his chest. There was nothing any of them could do for him, at least not down here. “You did, Eds. You got him good.” 

Every breath Eddie took seemed to be more shallow and more pained than the last. They had to get him out of here. Richie placed his hand on Eddie’s cheek fondly, forcing him to stay focused on him with an encouraging nod. “Now, let’s get you moving.” 

Eddie groaned with effort but couldn’t do much to get himself off the ground. Richie slid himself under his arm and moved to act as a crutch. “Bill, help me out here.” Their friend stared at them, unmoved, paralyzed by the shock of how everything had unfolded. He held a little tighter to a sobbing Bev but didn’t so much as acknowledge that he was being called for. Richie shook his head and looked up at the next person. “Ben?” No response but a pitiful shake of his head. Richie couldn’t understand why no one would help him. He shot a pleading stare at Mike who steeled his jaw and pawed at his eyes. He turned back to him and let his hands linger a little too long, a little too gently. “Alright, Eds, on the count of three,” he said and leaned down to let him grip tightly around his neck.

“Don’t call me Eds, fuckface,” he whispered. Richie gave a soft laugh and dug his hands into the back of Eddie’s shirt. 

Eddie knew, deep down, that he wasn’t going to make it out of this cave, but he wouldn’t let Richie think he was giving up. In reality, he just wanted him to hold him until he was gone. He supposed he would take what he could. He wrapped his arms around him in as much of a hug as he could. Eddie pressed his face into Richie’s neck and took a deep breath. He nodded and made a soft noise that Richie took to mean “I’m ready.”

Richie took a deep breath and said, as confidently as he could, “Alright. One… Two…”

From behind him, a shrill voice teased along “One… Two…”

Pennywise. It was still alive. He could vaguely hear his friends screaming as the clown sprung to life “Shit,“ he hissed, trying desperately to wrench him from the ground so they could make their getaway.

“Shit is right, Richie,” the old clown sing-songed. “You want all your little friends to find out what you’re hiding?” He twitched his fingers toward the pair and then continued to extend until they were nearly touching Richie. He stumbled back, maneuvering Eddie just out of the clown’s reach and scrambled in front of him. “What’s that behind your back? The boyfriend you’ll never get to have?”

Regaining his focus on the moment, Richie stood and chased the elongated fingers to the hand to which they belonged. “Listen here you fucking pile of antique used colostomy bags,” he yelled, “there is nothing you can say to me that will make me think you’re anything but an intergalactic crybaby!” As he landed the last word of the sentence, the clown began to take the form of a giant baby. 

As the group’s insults grew, the being shrunk and they realized the power of their words. The smaller they could make him, the more likely it was that they’d win. They believed they could and they did. When they’d finally turned the little shit into the tiniest thing they could, Eddie and Bill reached in together and tore out his shriveled, still-beating heart. One by one, the Losers hands joined together and they crushed the core of It’s being until finally, they’d won. 

Richie turned back to face Eddie and tell him they’d done it; that Pennywise was gone forever. It hadn’t all been for nothing. He went to call out his name, but the word stuck in his throat at the sight of his vacant, unfocused stare and still chest. Richie ran the few steps to his side and slammed to his knees, putting pressure on the wound that had stopped bleeding. He grasped desperately at Eddie’s shirt, his face, his hair, he shook him a little, trying to rouse him. Even as Bev kneeled behind him, trying to make him see reason, his hearing swirled to nothing. All he could focus on was the pattern of his own breathing, his own heartbeat, and the search for any sign of that on Eddie. Tears made his vision swim. Once more, he thought to himself that they should have split right away.

Just like that, he was in The Derry Townhouse with Eddie, safe and fleeing to anywhere that Pennywise wasn’t. Richie peeked his head out of his room into the hallway and let his voice carry across into his friend’s room. “You got everything?” he asked. Ever since Mike had made his reasons for bringing them all back to this place they hadn’t even remembered existed until the day before, the group had been in panic mode. They were all scrambling to head back to the lives they’d made for themselves in Anywhere But Derry. For whatever reason, he and Eddie had clung to one another, even then. They were remembering being close. There was tension between them. Something unspoken, maybe even when they were kids. 

“I think so,” Eddie called back to him amidst the whir of zippers and the thudding of luggage. 

“Alright,” he called, heading down the stairs with his duffel and laptop slung over his shoulders, spinning the keys to his rental car in his hand. “Autobots, roll out!”

Eddie took one last lap of his room to make sure he had everything. He patted down his pockets and made a mental check. “Keys? No keys, took a cab, leaving with Richie,” a curious smile tugged at his mouth as he said the name. He paused, stricken by the reaction but he didn’t take the time to analyze that. “Wallet, phone, inhaler, bags…” He took a deep breath and gathered his belongings. For just the slightest of moments, he stopped and acknowledged the rushing of his blood away from his stomach accompanied by a spike of adrenaline. Butterflies. His fight or flight mode was on high and that was the only reason for it. There was nothing else that could possibly be making him panic. Unless he was, as he suspected, sensitive to gluten and it wasn’t nerves but too much Chinese food.

“Rápido, Eduardo. Ándale, ándale!” Richie called, knocking on the downstairs wall and pulling him from his mental quicksand.

Forcing himself from the memory, Richie broke into sobs, burying his face into Eddie’s chest. As the rest of his friends fought to pull him to his feet, he begged to take him with them; not to leave him down in the sewers in the dark. As soon as he thought he’d convinced them, the chamber began to shudder and crumble. Richie found himself glued to the spot. He couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t. They were supposed to leave together. He’d just admitted that he loved him. After all these years, he was supposed to have a chance to finally see… no. No, if this was where Eddie was going to stay, this was where Richie was going to stay, too. And he would have, too, if the other four hadn’t banded together to force him to move. They ran along the tunnels and up out of the cistern into the house on Neibolt and through the doors just in time for the entire building to collapse in on itself, vanishing into the ground and sealing Eddie in with the source of generations of suffering. As the house began to cave, so, too, did Richie’s will to go on. He lunged to go back in but was restrained by Ben and Mike until his body gave way. He strained and scratched and kicked until he couldn’t find the strength to do it anymore. He dropped to the ground and screamed Eddie’s name until his throat was raw. It was no use. He was gone. It was over. 

Eventually, the Losers managed to get themselves together enough to walk to the quarry and clean themselves off. As the group waded in the cool water, Richie focused on the blood all over him- had it really been so much? How could he have thought, even for a moment, that a person could survive all of that? As he focused on his glasses, he turned to make a snide remark about the germs to Eddie and realized, once more, that the blood was his. He wouldn’t be able to hear the quip. The survivors merged in on each other, clinging together for strength. 

A few days later, Richie made one more stop on the way out of Derry. He put the mustang in park and eased out onto the little covered bridge over the creek in the woods. He strode along the barricade, looking at years of graffitied carvings, each a testament to a love that had encountered Derry’s unique brand of torture. He wondered how many of the couples were still together; if any of them had been torn apart by Pennywise. 

Finally, he stopped and gave a bittersweet smile as he saw what he was looking for. A jagged R + E. Small, vague, but there nevertheless. 27 years later and his innocent pining had left an impact. Of course, it had. Love always leaves an impact, whether you’re 12 or pushing 40. 

“I was gonna let you die!” echoed Eddie’s voice in Richie’s head for the millionth time since the tunnels. It had become almost a taunt.

“You should have,” Richie whispered, lowering to his knees and resting his head on the railing. “You should have let me die. We all still fucking remember and you’re not here.” The memories weren’t fading. Last time, as soon as they’d gotten out, things got fuzzy. By the time they made their blood pact, he could hardly remember the specifics of what had happened. This time, though… This time, he could still remember every moment. Every single one. Specifically, though, the warmth of Eddie’s kiss and the blank stare he wore in death haunted his every thought since. “If you were gonna die, you should have let me die, too, he said.

Richie took his old pocket knife out of his pocket and flipped it open, considering it for a moment. He tested the tip against his hand and watched as blood beaded at the tip. It would be so easy, he thought, to just drag the blade against his wrists and throw himself into the water. Then, he could be with Eddie again. Closing his eyes, he blinked out a few hot tears, then covered his face in his hands. As much as he didn’t want to live life in a world where Eddie wasn’t, he could just imagine the look on his face if, after everything they’d gone through, he appeared in the afterlife having put himself there. He wiped the tears from his eyes and refocused on what he’d come all the way out here to do.

Retracing the letters, he deepened the markings, ensuring that, on some level, they’d be able to stay together for posterity. The set of freshly carved initials in weathered old wood was not a fair proxy for the love they’d never had the chance to share, but at least it was out there as proof that, no matter what happened from that moment forward, that Richie Tozier loved Eddie Kaspbrak. 


End file.
